


Happy Ending

by HewerOfCaves



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Violence, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29720409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HewerOfCaves/pseuds/HewerOfCaves
Summary: Fingon leans forward and kisses him as sweetly as the first time. No, it’s not sweet, it’s passionate, bitter, all-consuming, as last kisses are supposed to be.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo
Comments: 26
Kudos: 51





	Happy Ending

**Author's Note:**

> I had some trouble tagging this and decided that the safest choice is Choose Not To Warn. However, none of the big warnings actually apply to this story.

_Clang!_ The arrhythmic sound of metal hitting metal increases in frequency and then abruptly ceases.

“I can’t—” Fingon’s voice wavers and his arm drops helplessly. “It cannot be broken. I’m sorry, it cannot.”

“I know,” Maedhros says.

Fingon looks at him. “What do I do?” he asks, as he used to ask in their youth when he would get in trouble and run to his cousin for advice.

No, he doesn’t ask. He’s not the youthful, innocent Fingon of Aman. He has bloodied his sword, he has crossed the frosty expanses of the Helcaraxë, and he has found Maedhros in this wasteland. He wouldn’t ask, but Maedhros still reads the question in his eyes.

“You know what to do,” he says. “Please.”

_“No.”_

“Listen to me, Findekáno, I want it. It’s the only thing I want. And for some reason, you still love me, and you have come for me, so, please, find it in your heart to do me this one last favor.”

The eagle is slowly flapping its great wings. Fingon is silent. Tears roll down his beautiful face. Maedhros raises his left hand and wipes them away with his thumb.

“I am sorry for being so selfish,” he says. “I am sorry for burdening you with this. You don’t deserve it. You are kind, noble, brave, and better than I am in every way. I know I am asking much from you. I know it will grieve you, but please, Findekáno, please do it for me and for all those that are going to suffer because of me.”

Fingon closes his eyes and tightly grasps the hilt of his dagger. Maedhros can see all his thoughts and emotions on his face, and when his expression settles on defeat, Maedhros’s heart aches with sorrow and gratitude.

Fingon nods once, determined, and covers Maedhros’s hand — still cupping his face — with his own. It’s warm, and Maedhros shivers, grips Fingon’s hand and brings it to his lips.

“Thank you,” he says, and he means _I’m sorry_ , and he means _I love you_ , but Fingon knows it, and saying those words aloud will only pain him more.

Fingon leans forward and kisses him as sweetly as the first time. No, it’s not sweet, it’s passionate, bitter, all-consuming, as last kisses are supposed to be.

“I love you,” he whispers against Maedhros’s lips.

He holds Maedhros by the back of his head. His fingers are gentle in Maedhros’s hair, his dagger is cold against Maedhros’s chest. His hand is shaking. No, it’s steady because he knows he’s doing the right thing, he knows this is the best possible outcome for everyone. He will strike true. It will be quick.

Maedhros doesn’t close his eyes. The last thing he sees will be Fingon’s face, Fingon’s brilliant smile, Fingon’s shining eyes. The last thing he feels under his fingertips will be the warmth of Fingon’s skin, Fingon’s fine cheekbone, Fingon’s soft lips.

He feels giddy with the promise of release, the promise of an end. He’s not afraid. He nods.

The dagger slides smoothly between his ribs. The pain is brief. Then he’s free. For a moment, he sees all of Beleriand. He sees Fingon, riding freely, safe; he sees his brothers, together, alive; he sees Doriath, unblemished; he sees the Mouths of Sirion, unbloodied.

He doesn’t heed Námo’s call. He doesn’t stay chained to the spells of Angband. He doesn’t flee elsewhere. He disappears, he dissolves, he unexists. He is erased. He is nothingness.

\---

“Maedhros. Maedhros? Nelyo!”

He twitched and looked around with unseeing eyes until his gaze focused on his brother. Maglor was frowning, and blood was slowly dripping from the still untreated gash on his temple.

“Did you hear what I said?” he asked.

Maedhros blinked. “No, sorry.”

Maglor crouched in front of him. “Are you all right?” He laughed without mirth and shook his head. “Sorry, stupid question. I came to say that it is time. Are you ready?”

Maedhros stood. “The children?” he asked.

Maglor sighed. “Finally asleep.”

Maedhros nodded and began walking under the cheerless shadow of Taur-im-Duinath together with his brother, barely noticing his people, who were slumped against the tall trees or gathered around small fires.

“Nelyo,” Maglor said softly. “Just now, when I came for you, you were… You had a very strange look on your face.”

“Did I?”

“Yes. You were smiling." They were almost there, so Maglor halted and turned to Maedhros. "What were you thinking about?”

“A happy ending,” Maedhros said and went on to bury his youngest brothers.


End file.
